


my baby (my baby)

by far2late



Series: i bet on losing dogs [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Adopted Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Angel of Death Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Antarctic Empire, Billiam - Freeform, Caning, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Corporal Punishment, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Lonely Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Mental Breakdown, Mentioned Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson Adopts Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Prequel, Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Punishment, Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), SMP Earth - Freeform, Sad Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Trauma, Web Series: Tales from the SMP, de-aged Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:26:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29553498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/far2late/pseuds/far2late
Summary: “ Ranboo was pretty sure the man never gave him a name. Maybe something close to Corn? He didn’t remember all that much. Ranboo didn’t remember much of the past couple of years. That was something that he was pretty sure wasn’t very common, but he didn’t know how else to deal with everything that he had seen before he had even hit double digits in terms of age.The now seven-year-old was pretty good at his job as a butler, even if Mr. Master still hated him. The man never told him he was proud of him, nor did he tell him that he did a good job on any occasion. He didn’t lighten up on punishment, but Ranboo hadn’t been kicked to the tundra and left to freeze to death, so he was happy enough.”orranboo finds himself a new home with techno and phil after something of a family reunion
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), phil watson and technoblade
Series: i bet on losing dogs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2171235
Comments: 39
Kudos: 1137
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	my baby (my baby)

**Author's Note:**

> twt is @far2early :] gnna post this and pass out

Ranboo flinched back as his palms were hit once more with a harsh cane, muffling a cry as he bit his lip in an attempt to keep himself from making noise that would earn him another five canings. He was just lucky that it wasn’t the leather belt this time, his master ( _ owner, employer, buyer? _ ) not wanting to waste the effort on someone like him who would just end up forgetting the lesson afterwards. 

Not that he ever did, despite Mr. Master’s insistence that he was young and stupid and slow and would be good for nothing if anyone other than him had ever wanted him. Ranboo had no reason not to believe the words, so he simply let them sting and clung to them as tightly as possible. It was close to the only time he ever got the chance to talk to someone, even if he wasn’t allowed to speak back and it was all insults that were hurled at him. 

There were only a few rules he had to follow, so it was his fault that he was never able to behave in the first place. That was what Mr. Master would tell him most days, anyway. Ranboo had never been able to read the list, nor did he have any plans of teaching the now seven-year-old, so the child took it with a grain of salt and learned the rules through trial rather than on paper. 

It wasn’t a fun process at all, he could say that much. He would rather hide in the dark closet Mr. Master would leave him in for hours rather than face the punishment for breaking the rules again. Luckily enough, though, he had managed to make himself a comprehensive list based on what his master told him he was doing wrong and proceeded to write it down in Endspeak so he wouldn’t forget it and knew how to read it if he did. 

_ Mr. Master’s big list of rules  _

  * _Don’t cry_


  * Don’t whine


  * Don’t shout


  * Don’t talk in Endspeak


  * Don’t call him Billiam 


  * Don’t take food without permission


  * Don’t try to avoid punishment


  * Don’t try to run away


  * Don’t question Mr. Master and what he does



It was a long list, but most of it was stuff that Ranboo learned not to do rather quickly. He didn’t speak, didn’t whine and didn’t shout. It was the crying one that he had more of a problem with, personally. Holding back tears was hard when he was being caned by Mr. Master. As well as when he had gone three days without food, and his stomach was curling in on itself painfully, or when he had been trapped in the closet for too long. 

Mr. Master wasn’t the most sympathetic, so he never lightened on the punishments, nor did he lighten on the tasks that the child had gotten over time. Despite being barely six at the time he had first remembered being at the home, he had been doing the bare minimum, cleaning up the garden after Mr. Master had gotten frustrated with the amount of energy he had. After that, it was cleaning the dining table, no matter how long it was or how filled it was. Then, it was being taught how to do the dishes by the kind man who had been there before him. 

He had always worn a mask that had a smiley face on it when he was around. Ranboo was pretty sure that it used to be blank before it had a smiley face, and he was pretty sure the man put the mask on to make him feel a bit better about being in the middle of nowhere with a man that hated him. 

  
The masked man was always kind to him. At least, for the one year that he knew the man. He had come over upon Mr. Master’s request on his seventh birthday, and instead of getting a gift, he learned how to dust delicate china in a way that didn’t make the dust mix into the wetting mixture that would be sprayed on it to make it shiny. It had been much harder than he had first interpreted. 

  
Ranboo was pretty sure the man never gave him a name. Maybe something close to Corn? He didn’t remember all that much. Ranboo didn’t remember much of the past couple of years. That was something that he was pretty sure wasn’t very common, but he didn’t know how else to deal with everything that he had seen before he had even hit double digits in terms of age. 

  
The now seven-year-old was pretty good at his job as a butler, even if Mr. Master still hated him. The man never told him he was proud of him, nor did he tell him that he did a good job on any occasion. He didn’t lighten up on punishment, but Ranboo hadn’t been kicked to the tundra and left to freeze to death, so he was happy enough. 

Ranboo had pulled his hands back after Mr. Master had put away the cane, not daring to move until the man told him explicitly that he would be allowed to. He had made that mistake once before and gotten his punishment doubled, so he didn’t want to do too much to make the man angrier when he was already visibly frustrated. 

“Now, do you know what-” A hic, “What you did wrong?” Ranboo stayed staring ahead, nodding before answering near-robotically. 

“I- I talked when I wasn’t supposed to.” Mr. Master hummed in response, taking Ranboo’s hands in his own as he knelt in front of the child, not paying any mind to the way he winced at the touch. Ranboo tried not to visibly flinch, despite how he could feel the man’s breath on him and how it freaked him out. 

“Will you do it again?” Ranboo didn’t get a chance to answer before the man was speaking again, near-grumbling, though he held drunk malice in his tone. “‘Course you will. Stupid thing. Just a thing, all dumb and stupid. Little child. A little piece of property. D’you even understand what I’m saying right now? Poor thing. So poor and dumb and stupid and unwanted. You never- never learn, never learn, never. A stupid little piece of shit.” 

Ranboo’s face crumpled a bit at the insults, the man laughing as he saw the expression on the child’s face. One of his large hands came to pinch at his cheek harshly, making him almost cry out as the man pierced his nails into the chub of his skin. “So delicate and stupid. Are you gonna cry? Break two of my rules in one night?” 

The child took a shuddering breath, shaking his head despite the grip on his cheek. “N-No, sir,” He answered shakily, sniffing in an attempt to hide his tears. Mr. Master didn’t answer him, pulling his hand away from his cheek and getting up. 

The child shifted on his feet as the man didn’t dismiss him, instead opting to stumble over to the couch in front of the fireplace, reaching for a drink that had been placed on a table nearby. He winced slightly as he saw it slosh out of the glass and spill on the carpet that had been laid out in front of the fireplace. It was hard to clean wine out of carpet, especially if it was white and furry and not dark. He could usually do a better job at getting away with the tiny things if he had a chance to hide them rather than fix them completely. It was something that the nice man in the mask had taught him. 

“My cousin is coming to see me,” He grumbled, Ranboo straining to hear it from where he stood, back ram-rod straight. “Today. Dunno when, but I don’t care that much. I expect you’ll stay out of sight until I call you.” 

Ranboo nodded as the man took a sip of his drink, stopping himself from shaking where he stood as the man turned back to him. Mr. Master stumbled back over to him, shaky and reaching out as he left a hand on the child’s shoulder, who tensed up under his touch. The man hummed, blinking at him before slapping him in the face without any words. 

  
Ranboo let his head snap to the side, eyes squeezing shut as he forced back tears he knew would slowly build up in his eyes. The man hummed again, stumbling away and out to the hallway where his room would be. Ranboo still didn’t move, not wanting to be punished for moving when Mr. Master didn’t say that he could and catching him in the act of disobeying one of his rules. 

The child wasn’t having the best time, really. He couldn’t even sit down instead of standing, remembering the caning he got on his hands for doing as much. Ranboo wasn’t a fan of the canings but they didn’t last anywhere as long as the beatings in general did, so he wasn’t opposed to them. Mr. Master had seemed more tired and drunk nowadays, anyway, so maybe he would get tired of wasting energy on Ranboo.

He knew he was a waste of space, probably a waste of time and resources as well. It was just that Mr. Master still pretended that he was worth something when he was probably the farthest thing from what someone could care about. Ranboo wished he would just get rid of him and let him run away from the mansion so he wouldn’t die all alone. He didn’t want to be alone when Mr. Master died. 

The man was getting old, hairs graying and health worsening. More often than not, Ranboo had to prepare some sort of medicine for the man in his attempt to make sure that he met his daily quota of chores so the man wouldn’t be pissed with him as a result. So far, he had been doing a good job, but there were always more pills being added to the plate, and Ranboo was incredibly aware of each new one he had to add. 

Maybe too much for a seven-year-old, but the mansion was all he knew. There was nothing else for him to base his perceptions of the world on. Not even Mr. Master was a good person to look at, being one of the more wealthy people. He never even let poor people near the house, which were probably the only demographic Ranboo could ever find himself relating to. 

Ranboo found himself wishing he had at least one other person to reach out to for help, whether it be a stranger or the masked man or just a dog or cat. Loneliness was beginning to get to him, leaving him sad on long, nights that would prove to give him more nightmares than he should have. That and being separated from the species that he valued so much was tearing him up on the inside, with it being mostly Mr. Master’s fault. 

  
He seemed judgemental of hybrids, never liking them all that much. Ranboo wondered if it had something to do with him, seeing how his pale skin was dotted with black splotches that weren’t natural. That, and his hair whitening naturally in spots, leaving him with what looked like badly-dyed dark brown hair that was never cared for. 

The hair tickled his ears, not grown enough to reach his jaw yet. Ranboo had started giving himself haircuts after his hair grew over his face enough to be considered an obstacle as he tried his best to do his job. 

Ranboo remembered the punishment he got for not being fast enough after he had to stop to push his hair out of his face while he was on the way to give the man more drinks. He had beaten Ranboo half to death just for his hair growing out. It had nearly been enough for him to panic at the mere mention of it if it weren’t for the memory only coming back to him now and then. 

He grimaced as he remembered now, tears building up in his eyes as he remembered how badly he had hurt at the time. Ranboo had been less understanding of the rules then, but he knew much better this time, and he wouldn’t break them. It was what had fueled him to stay standing while Mr. Master seemed long gone. 

Ranboo didn’t move from where he stood, legs aching and back straight as he stared ahead, hearing the front door unclick from the living room that was tucked away near the kitchen. If he strained his pointed ears, he could hear little bits of the conversation that was happening, as well as realizing that there were two pairs of footsteps. 

He froze as he realized he didn’t recognize either of the voices nor did he hear Mr. Master’s voice or him coming downstairs. Maybe he had fallen asleep upstairs? Or the people who had come in had killed him and he was next. Ranboo didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to be hurt again. 

The child couldn’t help the few tears that spilled down his face silently, wiping at his face non-stop in an attempt not to break Mr. Master’s rule again. He shook his head as he did, hands balling into fists as he rubbed at his face and sniffed loudly. Ranboo couldn’t focus on the two intruders and try not to break Mr. Master’s rules at the same time. 

He wanted to run but he couldn’t force himself to, legs shaking as he even considered raising his foot. Ranboo didn’t want to die but he didn’t want Mr. Master’s punishment. All he remembered was red and pain and crying and screaming and getting nothing but more pain in response, shouting filling his head as his legs crumpled under him and he fell to his knees while rubbing frantically at his face.

Ranboo didn’t even realize the two people had found him until he heard a quiet conversation just out of earshot and couldn’t help the cry that came out of his mouth, more strangled and pain-filled than the last. The voices paused and a pair of footsteps followed after a beat of silence, the other person still standing by the entry of the living room. 

The child didn’t look up as he wiped at his face desperately, not wanting to be crying when he died. If Mr. Master was alive and he saw that Ranboo had broken one of his rules before he- before he- then he would have been mad. Or disappointed or sad or not buried him or not given him a funeral and then just had him buried in the weeds. 

“Kid?” The voice came from in front of him this time, Ranboo’s eyes squeezed shut. “Are you okay? Why are you crying?” 

The man sounded nice. Soft and gentle and understanding, but Ranboo didn’t know to trust that. He hadn’t had that before in his life, except for the man in the mask who said he would come back and then never did. Ranboo shook his head, burying his face in his hands as a whine escaped him. 

“Pl-Please don’t kill me,” Ranboo cried out, voice choking on a juvenile sob as the man in front of him breathed in sharply. Someone behind him shifted and Ranboo fought the urge to shuffle back and hideaway and curl up in a little ball and never be found. 

“What gave you that idea?” The man asked, voice soft as before. Ranboo looked up for the first time since the two had come into the living room, heterochromatic eyes locking onto the man in front of him. 

He had blond hair, wearing a blue and white striped bucket hat. He had multiple layers on, differentiating between pale blue, dark navy blue, black, and white. He had a cape on as well, fastened to his shoulders. Ranboo looked up and made eye contact, finding soft blue eyes. The sight of them made him more panicked, if possible. 

“M-Mr. Master said that- that- someone would come and get me and get rid of me because I was bein’ bad, and- and, I didn’t mean to be bad but he went away and he didn’t tell me I could sit down but I sat down and then I broke his rules ‘cause I cried, and I don’t- I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna be buried in the bushes and eaten by a raccoon.” Ranboo hyperventilated as he spoke, shaking violently as he tried to sniff back mucus and tears. 

The man in front of him looked nearly horrified, covering up the expression after a moment to put on something close to a reassuring smile. 

“That’s not gonna happen, yeah?” The man paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder before backing to Ranboo. “D’you know who I am?”

Ranboo shook his head, still crying as he tried to wipe the tears away from his face. The man seemed to soften at the sight but didn’t reach out to touch him, instead staying back where he was and humming quietly. 

“Do you know who the king is?” The man asked after, head tilted to the side slightly. Ranboo nodded mutely, hands stretched out and fingers wiping at his cheeks compared to the fists from before. 

“He’s- I dunno his name. But he’sa angel. And he’s got- got big wings and a sparkly chain and he’s nice. And Mr. Master didn’t like him,” Ranboo answered, voice shaky and weak but still holding a bit of curiosity in the words. Someone behind him snorted but Ranboo paid them no mind, enamoured now that he had been distracted. The man in front of him smiled a bit, holding a hand out. 

“Nice to meet you, little one. I’m Philza. King of the Antarctic Empire. One of them, anyway. I don’t like the title all that much, it’s too fancy. You can call me Phil, yeah?” Ranboo stared up at Phil, eyes wide as he sat, shocked. 

“Do you- d’you have the big wings?” He asked quietly, nervous as he looked up at him but also curious in a childlike way that hadn’t yet been beaten out of him. Phil answered by rolling back his shoulders, two large, graying wings showing from behind him. Ranboo gaped, instinctively reaching forward to take a closer look before stopping himself midway, sitting back where he had been. 

“...Why’d you come here, then, Mr. Philza?” Ranboo asked, hands in his lap as he wrung them nervously. The winged man looked at Ranboo before looking over his shoulder and back. 

“We came to see Techno’s cousin, Mr. Billiam,” Phil answered, using the same honorifics Ranboo did in an attempt to make him comfortable. 

“You’re not supposed to call him that,” Ranboo answered automatically before slapping a hand over his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to interrupt or speak, and he had just done both. Now Mr. Phil would realize what a bad kid he was and be mean and- 

“Why not?” Phil asked instead, interrupting his thoughts. Ranboo looked at him, curled in on himself before he spoke up quietly, after a long few beats of silence. 

“Is in the rules. Not supposed to call him that.” Phil’s expression didn’t change, but after a moment's hesitation, he held out an open palm to the child. Ranboo looked at it before placing a small shaking hand in his, facing up. Phil slowly curled his fingers around the child’s, squeezing gently. 

“Do you think you could tell me what the rules are?” Phil asked softly, looking at Ranboo with earnest eyes. The child looked back before shaking his head nervously, squeezing Phil’s hand a bit tighter. 

“That’s okay, that’s fine,” The man reassured, the figure from behind Ranboo leaving, the child hearing his footsteps fade. He relaxed minutely, slumping forward. 

“Are you gonna go, Mr. Philza?” Ranboo asked, his words holding a tremble to them that broke Phil’s heart. He hummed quietly, squeezing Ranboo’s small hand again. It was near skeletal and the sight made Phil sick. 

“If you’ll come along, yes,” He confirmed, reaching another hand forward to card through his hair comfortingly. The hybrid leaned into his hand, letting out a quiet, almost distressed trill. Ranboo looked at him through half-open eyes, the exhaustion from crying finally catching up to him. 

“I really want to, Mr. Philza. Will- Is Mr. Master gonna be okay?” The question, though light in nature, definitely hinted at something that Ranboo would be insinuating rather than saying. Instead of answering directly, Phil tapped the tip of his nose with his pointer finger. 

“Don’t need to worry about that, songbird. Are you feeling sleepy?” At a nod of agreement, Phil straightened up before picking up Ranboo in his arms all-too-easily, cradling him to his chest like precious cargo. 

Something fond was stirring in Phil’s chest at the sight of Ranboo slowly drifting off, or just in his arms in general. He was practically moulded into them, finding himself perfectly comfy in the process. Phil felt like some hole in his life he hadn’t noticed was filled. 

Phil rocked himself back and forth on his heels until Ranboo was drifting off, eyes mostly shut as Techno came back downstairs, wiping off his sword and putting it back in its sheath. He raised an eyebrow at Phil’s precious cargo, the man glaring in return. 

“Taking him home?” Techno asked, a bit amused, though worry was prevalent in his tone. Phil looked down at the child, watching his face twitch in his sleep slightly before nodding. 

“Yeah.” As an afterthought, Phil added, “I hope you made Billiam hurt.”

Techno shrugged as a response. “Can’t hurt if he’s dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi im starting a series abt this now im emotionally attached feel free to leave auggestions abt future installments ok bye its 2 am LOL


End file.
